


Lascia Ch'io Pianga (Let Me Lament My Cruel Fate)

by Persiflage



Series: Bondkink Fics [37]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies), James Bond (Movies)
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Death References, Gen, Major Character Injury, Older Man/Younger Woman, Prompt Fic, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-26
Updated: 2013-01-26
Packaged: 2017-11-26 23:18:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/655481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Persiflage/pseuds/Persiflage
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Deathbed confessions as Bond and M believe they're about to die.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lascia Ch'io Pianga (Let Me Lament My Cruel Fate)

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the bondkink comm on LJ. The prompt was _Craig!Bond/Dench!M. They know they are going to die. There's nothing they can do about it. Only wait for the inevitable. And, maybe, make some confession. (I leave it to the author if death actually occurs or there will be some unexpected last minute rescue.)_ This is an insta!fill - I knew last night that I was going to write it - I just didn't have time.  
>  Spoilers: None   
> Diclaimer: No profits, no harm intended.

_Lascia ch'io pianga_  
mia cruda sorte,  
e che sospiri la libertà.  
Il duolo infranga queste ritorte  
de' miei martiri sol per pietà. 

Let me weep  
my cruel fate,  
and sigh for liberty.  
May sorrow break these chains  
Of my sufferings, for pity's sake.

(George Frederic Handel)

 

"I told you not to come out here." Bond's voice was tight with anger and recrimination, but M could hear fear in it too, and she knew the fear wasn't for himself.

"I wouldn't have done if you didn't have a lamentable habit of killing the people we want to interrogate." She couldn't help the sharp retort, and knew that she was also afraid, for herself as well as for him.

"You think I _like_ killing people?" he demanded. "It may be what I'm good at, but that doesn't mean I actually take pleasure in it. It was a case of kill or be killed, and Richardson would've shot me dead without an instant's hesitation."

As he spoke, she could hear him struggling to shift the concrete beam that had pinned his legs, and she wished she could help, but the same beam had trapped her, too, and its weight across her stomach and lower ribcage was agonising. Richardson might be dead but it looked as if he'd got his revenge because the building had exploded seconds after Bond's gunshot had killed him. No one knew where they were: the homing device which Q had given to Bond had died half an hour before the building had exploded, and M had a theory about that inconveniently timed failure. Even if the back up team had known where to find them, they were so far from base that no one could reach them in time.

"M?" Bond's voice, sounding ragged with suppressed panic broke in on her reverie.

"What?" Her tone wasn't as sharp this time, and she realised that she was having trouble getting enough air into her lungs.

"I'm sorry." His tone was softer and she felt a stab of panic of her own at the realisation that he had recognised the hopelessness of their position. Even if he could have got the beam moved, she was pretty sure he wouldn't be able to walk since his legs were badly crushed.

"So am I." She reached out with her right hand, wincing at the stab of pain it caused, but determined to make the attempt to touch him.

His fingers clasped hers and squeezed. "I should've done a better job of protecting you," he said.

"How?" she asked. "Not even you could've stopped a building from falling on our heads."

"No, but – "

"Don’t, James, please." She squeezed his fingers. "You know you were always my favourite Double-0," she said quietly. "But don't tell anyone I said so."

He gave a choked sob, which he manfully turned into a weak-sounding chuckle. "Your secret's safe with me," he promised. "You're my favourite M. In fact – " M waited, wondering what he was going to add. "You're my favourite woman."

She wondered if she was imagining the bashfulness in his tone. "Is that so?" she asked, a little dryly.

He squeezed her fingers again. "It is. I always wanted more, you know – more than just a professional relationship with you, I mean."

She felt her heart constrict at his words. "You never said anything, even after Max passed away."

He chuckled again. "I didn't dare. I thought you'd bounce me out of the Service so hard and fast that I'd end up in Australia, or the Arctic, or possibly in the depths of Siberia."

She couldn't laugh, she didn't have enough air, but she felt tears prickling at her eyes. "Oh my dear boy."

"Marion." Her name was just a whisper in the darkness, but she could hear the tenderness and longing in his tone, and her tears began to flow in earnest. She regretted the fact that he'd never spoken up before, and that she'd never encouraged him although she'd suspected he cared about her far more deeply than he was wont to show.

"James, my love." 

007-007-007

When the MI6 team arrived half an hour later, they found Bond's hand was still clasping M's as the two of them lay pinned beneath the massive concrete beam, but no one said a word, they just concentrated on freeing them both from the wreckage. 

# # # #

(I leave it entirely to the reader's inclination as to whether they're dead or merely unconscious by the time the MI6 team arrives.)


End file.
